


make you believe, make you forget

by tsunderestorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Car Sex, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 15:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10573749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Sometimes, Noctis withdraws to think and sometimes, it's an excuse to get Ignis to come looking for him when he wants something to take his mind off of, well...everything. The car isn't the most prime spot for sex, but they'll make it work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure that there are one hundred iterations of FFXV-related car sex, but I'm late to the party so *sparkles* here's what I've got. I wrote this before I even finished the game and polished it the day after I beat it. This was also written after I heard that...the car...is meant to represent Regis in some fashion...oops. Still good, though.

Ignis finds Noctis just outside of camp, reclined on the hood of the car. It's painted black now, gleaming with a fresh coat and not yet sullied by the marshy mud or dusty red-clay roads they’ve been driving through for days. He’s leaned back against the windshield, staring at the stars, legs bent at the knee and no doubt leaving boot prints on the hood. Typical.

He doesn’t even move when he hears Ignis approach, only offers the slightest shift: a nervous twitch of his toe as it taps on the hood as acknowledgment. Ignis sighs and chooses a strategic spot: close enough that he can hear him if he speaks, far enough away that he isn’t pressuring him to do so. Sometimes, he just wants the closeness of someone standing by him.

“Do you think the gods will accept me?” he asks conversationally after a few moments of silence, like he’s discussing what to eat for dinner rather than a prophecy older than the Caelum line itself. “What if they decide I’m not worthy somehow?”

Ignis shifts in place, inclining his head towards the heavens, trying to use what he knows of his prince to pick out which constellation has caught his eye, what has thrown him into such deep thought. “They will accept you. And if they have any doubts, I’ll convince them. You’ll have me - I mean. Us. You’ll have us right beside you.”

“You always have been - ” Noctis says, quietly, letting the end hang with no finality. Searches the stars above him like he’s asking the astrals for help with his own soul, all of the feelings that flood his heart that he holds back with a carefully constructed dam. Finishes it with: “There for me. By me.  _ With  _ me.”

(It has always been...different between them.)

It is late, and the night was meant for welcoming words the day shuns as too serious. Ignis breathes deeply, and says: “I will be there beside you until there is no breath left in my body, and would that the gods grant me the honor of returning to do it again.”

Noctis has always been better at  _ show _ than  _ tell _ : defeat Gladiolus in a sparring session to prove he’d mastered a concept and offer thanks for his time, invite Prompto to a banquet rather as an equal rather than tell him again how little his birth mattered. Speak to Ignis with the silent language of caresses and kisses rather than let the words pass his lips. Ignis knows it, knows what Noctis wants when he’s getting withdrawn like this, why he’s looking for excuses to get him alone. He knows that even a gods-chosen prince is still  _ human _ .

Noctis removes his hands from behind his head, spreads his bent knees just enough to regard Ignis curiously from between them. Eyes bright in the starlight, mouth curving into a smile as he mouths  _ come here _ .

Ignis always thinks  _ I shouldn't _ . There are a million reasons: Noctis is a prince and Ignis an advisor; he's betrothed; they’re currently on the hood of his father’s antique car; on and on in an exhausting list. He shouldn’t, and yet he does. Slowly, he turns to stand against the front grille of the car, looking down at the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, his prince - meeting his eyes as they stare up at him and then he’s rising, catching the nape of Ignis’s neck in his ungloved hand and pressing their lips together.

Maybe he’s a bad advisor, a rare case of Regis’s poor judgment but any reservations dissolve into wisps of unwanted thoughts when Noctis kisses him. Noctis’s lips feel so  _ right _ against his: soft and smooth, pampered, he thinks, the way a prince’s should be.

“Ignis…” Noctis breathes, exhaling softly against his advisor’s mouth. Just his name, again - no words, no teasing. Open and honest, making Ignis think that if he dies on this quest it will be with his prince’s breath filling out his lungs and he wouldn’t regret a thing. “Ig,” he says again: quieter, more intimate, pulling him out of contemplation.

There are no lights this far out of an outpost, just a campground and the embers of a dying fire, the low backlight of the dash in the Regalia because Noctis likes music on when he withdraws to think, but he can see him perfectly. His eyes have memorized the shape of him: the slope of his nose, the softness of his cheek, the gentle cut of his jaw. The way his shoulders slump (bad posture, always) when he folds against him.

Slowly, he stretches his legs out, heels of his boots clicking against the low bumper as he spreads them around Ignis before him. It's almost coquettish, the way he relaxes back on his elbows on the car’s hood, brow arched as he looks him over. An invitation.

“Are you gonna do it?” Noctis asks when he hesitates, and Ignis seizes his chance. There's a muffled “mmph!” as he pushes him down onto the hood, the thump of one hand against the warm metal and then the other, torn away from its drag down Noctis’s body to balance himself. Noctis surges up against him, full of life and desire, practically crackling with the power he's acquired already. Different, but the same: these arms are the same, lightly toned; this chest; these hips. The space between his thighs, warm and if Ignis were to be so bold, just for him.

When he’s lavished enough attention on Noctis’s lips, he moves to his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear that makes him melt and whimper, utterly ruin his perfectly styled hair with the way he clutches at him, fingers carding through it.

“Thought you were never gonna do it…” Noctis teases, breathless, hands on Ignis's shoulders and dragging his jacket off, sliding down further to untuck his button-up from his trousers, fingers digging into his side sharply when Ignis sinks his teeth teasingly into his smooth shoulder. “Ah, Ig - yeah. Just like that.”

“Why must you rile me so?” Ignis asks as he pulls back, looks at Noctis again beneath him: jacket shrugged off and rumpled under him, shirt pulled low on one shoulder, the collar stretched (that’s going to need repaired, he thinks), eyes dark even in the twinkling starlight, pupils blown wide. Ignis can’t help thinking he looks debauched already, splayed out on the hood of (fuck, his Father’s) car and he also can’t help thinking that he’s never wanted him as fiercely as he does right now. It’s been too long and even the nagging reminder of  _ there are more important things right now _ can’t stop him from wanting to claim the prince over and over.

“Because you're my favorite to rile.” Noctis is smiling, Ignis can feel, as he ducks his head into Ignis's neck, kissing where his shirt collar meets skin. The switch of attention is jarring and Ignis’s fingers catch on the hood, leather gloves on smooth paint, scrambling for purchase as he leans over him. Noctis knows just where he likes to be kissed and damn him, he relishes in it as he nips at Ignis’s jaw.

“I want it,” Noctis demands, bratty as ever, pulling back and arching his neck to his advisor’s questing mouth once more. “Are you gonna do it, or make up some excuse?”

“Noctis,  _ please _ \- “ he tries to reason. Noctis reaches between them to palm Ignis through the trousers and he hisses sharply, so loud he fears he’ll wake the others. He'd felt the arousal coiling in his belly long before now but the touch of Noctis’s strong, sure hand cupping him, fingers caressing the line of his cock reminds him that he is  _ achingly _ aroused. “The others…”

“They're asleep,” Noctis shrugs, trailing the length of his cock as its confined in the tight fabric. “Or fucking, just like us.”

Ignis’s blood is on fire. “Where, then?” he asks, defeated, lips caught in the hair at his prince’s temple.

“Right here.”

Ignis runs through the reasons, again, for why that’s a bad idea. He can see Prompto, getting up to relieve himself and catching them - he imagines a snapshot of him from behind, pants around his ankles and bare ass exposed for the world to see, Noctis’s legs snug around his hips. Or Gladiolus, startled and mistaking Noctis’s love sounds as pain or danger, scrambling out of the tent with his sword drawn. The worst of all, a daemon, sneaking up behind then with claws to tear an artery - himself, too caught up in the tight squeeze of his prince’s eager body to protect him and -

“You're thinking too much,” Noctis points out, looking up at him. Gentle, soft, the way he is when he's flipping through a magazine, petting an animal, but different somehow. A look that Ignis knows, arrogant as it may be, is reserved just for him. As if Noctis can read his mind, he offers “the backseat, then.”

\--

The Regalia is spacious, honestly, but with two bodies it seems cramped. It didn't occur to him until now that taking their clothes off before falling into the backseat may have been prudent, so they're forced to contend with bumping into one another as they get rid of what needs to be shed - or, close enough. Noctis ends up with his jacket bunched up in the floorboard and his t-shirt shoved up under his arms, exposing the perfect planes of his lightly-toned belly to Ignis’s greedy eyes and hands. His pants are still on one leg, bare foot propped on the back dash and the other resting on the console between the front seats, pants and briefs bunched above the top of his remaining boot. Ignis ends up with his shirt unbuttoned and off, joining Noctis’s on the floor but he's left his pants alone, far more concerned with making sure Noctis didn’t hit him in his hurry to kick his pants off.

Ignis stops as he looks down at him: exposed, waiting. Cock hard against his belly, thighs spread wide. “Do you have lube?”

“Yeah. Picked it up at that gas station a few miles back.” Noctis gestures to his jacket and Ignis digs around in the pockets – he finds a memorial coin Noctis had found beside the road, a pretty feather from a chocobo chick, and a packet of lube. It's not what they’re used to, but it’s nice, perfect in a pinch. Ignis rips it open and lets it coil onto his fingers, giving them a generous slick coating.

“Is this good?” Noctis asks as he gets comfortable, settling into the seat – knowing full damn well it is. Ignis would never tell him if it wasn't, not when he’s had had his fair share of experience in telling Noctis to move after he's gotten himself comfortable, especially when he's in a mood to get fucked and not think for a while.

“You look incredible.” he says, and Noctis smirks, happy for the praise.

“Ig,” he says, canting his hips up off the seat. “Get on with it.”

Ignis doesn't have to be told twice. His hand moves down the length of Noctis’s leg. He’s careful not to smudge off the lube, heel digging into his thigh, his hip, the lightest bit of pressure against his balls before he touches where he’s asking for. Fingers coated in the cheap convenience store lube, he rubs over his prince’s hole, listening for the catch of his breath. He tends to run cold, he knows, and even flushed with desire as he is it's a shock to Noctis’s warmth. He leans down, covering Noctis with his body as best he can when kneeling in the backseat of a car and kisses his temple, mouths down over his jaw as he presses against his hole, circling the tight rim and getting him used to it, leeching some heat from his skin before he gets a finger inside.

Noctis turns his head to catch Ignis's lips as they travel down his cheek, resting their foreheads together for just a moment to say “You too,” before he flops his head back, content (as always) to lay back and let Ignis do most of the work.

“Please,” he asks, softly, a hand behind his head to protect himself from the car door and the other running up and down Ignis’s arm balancing himself against the back of the seat, fingers tracing the veins on his forearm. Ignis slides the tip of his finger in without any further ado, lets it sink in up to the second knuckle in the tight heat of him.

“More.” Noctis says, a plea or an order, he's never sure which. Noctis isn't either, but he doesn't like to admit how his voice breaks on just one elegant finger. Ignis grants his wish, rubbing the pad of another over his slowly stretching rim before slipping in alongside the first. He allows him time to adjust and savors the determined scrunch of his nose as he bites down a whimper before he spreads them, working Noctis open around his fingers.

He unbuttons his pants when the ache is too much, breathing a sigh of relief when the tight trousers aren't restricting him and could almost cry for how good it feels when he palms himself through his briefs. The front is damp from where his cock had leaked enthusiastically in excitement and it’s almost shameful, he thinks, the way it twitches in his palm. He lifts his hips enough to spare room to push both items of clothing down over his hips and the tops of his thighs, letting his cock bump against Noctis’s leg when he re-adjusts into his position.

Noctis bucks against it, eyes that had previously been closed in pleasure snapping open and alert, smile curving the corners of his swollen lips. He grinds down against Ignis’s long fingers, fucking himself on them and moving his hand from Ignis’s arm to his own cock, stroking himself as he watches the focused furrow of Ignis’s brow as he finger fucks him.

“Gods, that's good,” Noctis moans out when he thrusts against him, pairs the forward buck of his hips with his fingers stretched  _ wide _ inside of him and the way he tips his head back and well and truly  _ moans _ tells him he's ready.

“We are - “ Ignis starts as he pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his trouser leg, “going to make a mess.”

Noctis lifts his foot from the console and tucks it low on Ignis’s back, tugging him closer, everything from his body language to the look in his pretty eyes telling him  _ I don’t care _ .

Slowly, Ignis sinks into him, bit by bit until he bottoms out and by the end of it Noctis’s eyes have slipped closed again. Ignis has barely left a moment to let him adjust before Noctis is moving against him, hands scrambling forward to clutch at his shoulders, skitter down his sides, reach for any bit of his lean body to pull him  _ closer _ .

“Fuck me,” he says. “Ignis,  _ please _ , gods it's been so long.”

Honestly, it’s only been a week or two since they've fucked, and it's been interspersed with a few quick handjobs in the tent when they've camped and once, at Noctis’s insistence, a quick blowjob while Ignis drove with Prompto and Gladiolus asleep in the backseat. But he’s right, it feels like it’s been an eternity and when he’s so tight and hot around him he has no  _ choice _ but to do as he begs.

Ignis sits up a little straighter, grabbing Noctis by the hips and tugging him  _ closer _ , tighter against him and more onto his cock and Noctis arches and gasps, catching his gaze for just a moment in the slivers of moonlight sneaking through the windows and gods, Ignis swears he needs no further sustenance for the rest of his days besides the memory of Noctis’s blissful expression as he thrusts into him, torn between catching his balance as he loses himself fin it and grabbing any inch of Noctis’s gorgeous, flushed skin as he fucks him.

Noctis’s orgasm hits him hard, curling his body sharply against Ignis’s as he spills hotly onto their bellies and between the way he moans, all low and slow and fucked-out, and the tight clutch of his pleasure-wracked body around him Ignis feels himself dragged over the edge.

They are, as expected when they come down and their breathing returns to normal,  _ a mess.  _ Sticky ropes of it are drying on their stomachs, Ignis’s fingers still slick with lube and his cock wet and shining in the low light when he pulls out. Reaching forward between the front seat for the wipes he keeps there (a miracle there were still any, really, with his much Prompto liked to eat in the car) he pulls out a few and sets about the task of cleaning them up. Noctis is far too much when he's like this, pupils blown under heavy eyelids, blissed-out and lethargic as he moves to tug his pants back up his legs. He’s tired, always ready for bed after a good orgasm or two. When he's cleaned them up as best he can, he tugs his pants and underwear back up, fastening them as he tries his hardest to re-tuck his rumpled shirt with practically no room for his arms to maneuver.

“Ig?” Noctis asks as he draws a smiley face in the fogged-up windows of their (antique, royal, very expensive and now  _ very _ sex-smelling) car. “You always know - “

Ignis stops, waits on baited breath. It's rare that Noctis gives any hint to the emotions he holds, the storm that brews in his heart. He kisses him, lets the feel of his full lips wash over him, licks inside his mouth for the briefest of seconds, smiling against his lips as encouragement before he pulls back. Coaxing it out of him.

“You always know how to treat me. What I need. You're…really good.”

“It's easy to know what you need when I love you,” he says, drawing a heart next to Noctis’s smiley face and catching him when he flops against him, burying his face in his neck.

“Love you too,” he says quietly, shyly; the greatest thing Ignis has ever heard.


End file.
